


Just Go Numb

by hisunfinishedmelody



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: I neither confirm nor deny anything, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Possible Character Death, future sexytimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisunfinishedmelody/pseuds/hisunfinishedmelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has leukemia from prolonged use and over exposure to somnacin. Eames decides to initiate a bucket list of sorts, giving Arthur everything he's ever wanted as he asks for it as Eames fears that Arthur may not beat this. Arthur's always been a fighter, though. A thousand snipers couldn't bring Arthur down, neither can a 'teeny' bout of cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Go Numb

The light hits the brunette head of hair perfectly, Eames can see every separate shade of brown it contains. In other universe, Arthur would have already been up by now and being way too bloody productive for seven in the damned morning. In this universe though, Arthur has cocooned himself in the blankets so the chocolate locks are all Eames can see of him. Eames wishes he didn't have to extract him from the blanket nest he's built around himself, because it's only in sleep that Arthur escapes all the pain that plagues him with every movement he makes. This was an important day and it was Arthur who picked the ungodly hour of eight a.m for today's events. “Darling,” He whispers as he pulls down the covers away from the peaceful face, unmarred with signs of pain that it would soon be wearing because Arthur refuses to take the medication the doctor's provided for the migraines and the joint pain because it often knocks him out. If it doesn't knock him out, it makes him barely responsive and Arthur hates that feeling more than the pain. Even though, Eames isn't above forcing it down his throat if it gets too bad (or at least, he acts like he isn't but the idea of actually holding his lover down and forcing a pill in his mouth like he was an animal isn't something he ever foresees himself able to do). 

Arthur grumbles something unintelligible and attempts to push Eames away with his heavily padded backside. Eames can't prevent a small chuckle at this act, Arthur is most tolerable when he's just waking up. He's almost adorable pliant like this. Though should Eames ever voice his thoughts on Arthur being adorable, he'd likely be the one in the hospital. Eames just shakes his head and begins his attempts to unravel Arthur, successfully starting to wake him as he's now forming full sentenced protests at the exposure to the cold air. “Can't we reschedule for tomorrow?” He whines plaintively, making himself a complete deadweight in his only attempt to resist being moved from the bed. 

Eames laughs and shakes his head, leaning over him to capture those thin lips with his own, glad that he can see Arthur's face now, Eames' lips forming a smile once he feels Arthur begrudgingly returning the kiss as if it's the worst thing in the world they could be doing at the arse crack of dawn (as Eames had aptly deemed any hour before noon). “I do not believe that's how weddings work, darling.” He teases. “Especially when you've all but invited the queen of England herself and closed down half the city to cater, decorate and entertain for it.” He rolls him once more and now it's just one layer of blanket separating them. “I swear, you're going to collapse one of your lungs one of these days, how is that remotely comfortable?”

Arthur cracks open one stunning amber eye, gorgeous even as he glares at Eames. “I never professed that it was a comfortable sleeping position, but it prohibits /someone/ from stealing the covers from me, doesn't it?” He all but growls. 

“So grouchy, love,” Eames banters, leaning down to nudge his nose against Arthur's own. “C'mon then, morning breath. Let's get ready.” He finalizes his statement with a light smack to Arthur's bum still protected by the blanket. 

Arthur grunts in protest. “I do not have morning breath.” He grumbles but he pushes the blanket from himself, sitting up with a bit of a struggle. Eames would offer to help him but Arthur has fussed the thousand times he has. Arthur's a fighter, that's what the doctors keep saying. Leukemia has a high survival rate, if anyone could beat it, it would be Arthur. Eames wonders if that's just his and Arthur's money talking to them though. Eames isn't as optimistic as he should be, he wears a mask for Arthur's sake. There are bad days, where Arthur is sobbing from pain, whether it be migraines, joint paint or a fever that refuses to die down that has given him the inability to keep anything down, these days, Eames wonders if dying would be so bad, if it meant Arthur didn't have to be in pain anymore. Eames hates himself for thinking that, hates himself for not having the unwavering faith in Arthur that Arthur has in Eames and at the very least, pretends to have in himself. 

So instead, Eames is just giving Arthur anything and everything he wants while Eames still has him. Arthur wanted a cat, Eames, despite being a dog person, bought him three (and all three of them, much to Eames' displeasure, sleep in the bed with them). Arthur wanted to move to England. Done. They'd been here for a few months now. Arthur wanted to be married but of course, Arthur didn't just want to be married. Arthur wanted a gigantic, extravagant, ridiculously expensive wedding. Eames had hesitated a moment and Arthur had argued that couples get married after knowing each other three months and Eames and Arthur had been together for three years, known each other for five. He'd used his first name too, “Joshamee” with his damned arms crossed (what was his mother smoking when she named him, really?). There was no arguing with that firm face. They'd been together for three years, it was a bit too late for Eames to be afraid of commitment. 

So Eames bought a pair of rings, Eames took Arthur to that fancy restaurant that the waiting list was usually three months long (money gets you everywhere), and Eames got down on one knee and asked Arthur to be his in absolutely every sense of the word. Arthur said yes, but only if Eames would wear a white tuxedo because Arthur swore it was his best color. Why that was a contributing factor to getting Arthur to marry him when Arthur himself had requested such things was beyond him, but of course Eames agreed. Arthur had launched himself into Eames' arms, in public even and that was enough to make it worth all the trouble to Eames. 

Months of planning later and here they are, they're really getting married today and they'll really be married for the rest of their lives together. And Arthur is the one fussing about being awake. Once he's finally to a sitting position, Eames has had enough of his dilly dallying and scoops him up in his arms bridal style, startling a squeak out of the point. After a moment, slender arms wrap around Eames' neck because, though he won't voice it, Arthur was grateful for Eames eliminating the effort of Arthur moving his sore joints to the bathroom, the pain was always worse in the morning. “Since you were being a lazy sod this morning, I think we've only got time for a quick shower.” Eames chides, feigning annoyance just because he knows it's going to get a rise from Arthur. 

And rise Arthur does with a huff of indignation. “Excuse me, Joshamee, did you just refer to me as a lazy sod when it's you who usually can't be bothered to open his eyes before noon?” He gripes. “And don't get me started about the dishes in the sink, Joshamee Eames, I sw-” 

Eames cuts him off with a quick kiss to his lips and a sharp swat to his arse. “Arthur, Arthur!” He exclaims. “I was just taking the mick, relax.” He sets Arthur down, leaning him against the sink while he goes about collecting towels and setting the temperature on the shower. Theirs was a bit spotty and always needed to run a bit before it actually became warm. Eames didn't mind so much as it gave him time to snuggle with Arthur like this, sleepy and pliant. Eames returned to cage Arthur against the sink, arms wrapped snugly around his waist as he rocks them slightly and Arthur allows it. Even allows Eames' squeeze to his arse, with minimal grumbling because Arthur's arse is even a temptation in his loose fitting sleep pants. 

“Come on, darling, let's get you undressed, can't go to your own wedding smelling like a donkey's backside.” Eames whispered with a kiss pressed to his temple as he pulls Arthur's shirt over his head. “The bloke you're marrying won't want to consummate the marriage if you do.” 

Arthur shoves his shoulder lightly. “I don't smell like any part of a donkey, Eames.” He snarls and it's clear he's beginning to wake up as he's getting vicious as Eames continues to tease. 

Though all that viciousness is derailed the moment Eames slides his hands down the back of Arthur's sleep pants, grabbing and squeezing at his ass. “Of course not, darling, of course not.” He purrs against Arthur's neck, pressing a kiss there afterward, sliding the fabric to the floor before returning his hand to that inviting arse that just begs to be touched, squeezed and pinched. 

“Eeeeames,” He whines, dragging out the vowel in his name on a higher octave telling Eames that he'd better stop or they may not leave this house at all today and regardless of whether or not Eames thought that they didn't need a silly piece of paper to tell them that they belonged to each other, this day was important to Arthur. 

“Alright, love, alright.” He whispers taking his hands away from the pert temptation that was Arthur's arse and went about stripping himself before offering his hand to Arthur. “C'mon you. Let's get you dolled up for that damnable forger you're marrying.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes, but a smile formed on his face as he gave Eames his hand and allowed him to lead them into the shower, Eames shielding him from the water for the time being. Arthur's hand slides up his naked chest, but his eyes are trained on the bathtub tile. “Eames.. are you just.. are you only marrying me because you think I'm going to die?” He whispers and Eames notes that there is a wetness to his lashes that couldn't have come from the shower. 

Shit. Eames should have known better. That if there were anyone that could see through Eames' masks, it would be Arthur and now he has Arthur thinking that the only reason he's doing any of this is because he thinks Arthur won't make it. Eames was a right bastard. “Oh Arthur, darling,” He whispers, tilting Arthur's chin up, heart shattering when he sees the heartbreak in his amber eyes, tears escaping from the corner of one. Eames' thumb catches it and whisks it away lightly. “I'm marrying you because I love you, Arthur. I'm marrying you because you're everything to me and I don't think you're going to die.” 

“Yes you do,” Arthur's voice breaks on the last word, his lower lip quivers and Eames hates himself on a level that's nearly physically painful. “You do think I'm going to die. I know you do.” 

“You're not going to die, Arthur, I don't think that.” Eames whispered dragging Arthur into his arms mentally berating himself for not being supportive. They were all that the other had, Arthur needed Eames to be his cheerleader. Arthur choked back a sob and it came out sounding like a puppy who's tail had been trod on and god, would Eames do anything to not have been the cause of that sound. “I must have been more surly than usual, darling, I'm so sorry. I don't think you're going to die, Arthur, I don't. You're a fighter. You're so strong, poppet. I'm marrying you because I want to call you mine. I'm marrying you so when we take a job I can introduce you as my husband. I'm marrying you so that no one else can ever have you but me. Should be asking you what a gorgeous bloke like you is doing marrying a mess like me.”

That gets a small chuckle out of Arthur and Eames makes a mental note to make up for all this trauma tonight in the bedroom. “You're not a mess.” He says as he pulls back just slightly to look up at Eames; that look of pure adoration that no one ever scores but Eames himself. “Pain in the ass maybe, but you're not a mess. I wouldn't marry a mess. I have standards, Eames.” 

“Clearly, I mean, have you looked at me lately, I'm obviously perfection personified.” Eames kids and gains a light punch to the ribs. The worry had washed from Arthur's face, forgotten as quickly as it had risen. 

There are days where Eames hasn't the slightest as to how he won Arthur's affections. There are days when he wonders how in the hell Arthur gained his as well. Their relationship could be the definition of 'rocky' and 'dysfunctional' but three years and they'd never left one another. Certainly considered it, among other things (read: homicide) but they were still going strong here on year four, tying the knot even. Eames was still pleasantly surprised to wake up every day to amber eyes, unruly brunette curls and precision filled sarcasm. They were the definition of opposites attract, that was for sure and Eames was positive he'd not have it any other way, leukemia and all. They had beaten so many other foes in their time, leukemia was no different. Eames needed to have faith in Arthur with the same devotion that he applied to every other aspect of their relationship. 

“Well, is the scent of 'perfection personified' supposed to be 'horse's ass'? I always thought that it would be something closer to jasmine or crushed diamond.” 

Ah yes. They were really perfect for one another.


End file.
